This is an experience with homelessness and mental illness which inspired my investment in the issue.
Growing up in Hawaii, I already understood the homeless issue and had empathy for them being in that situation. What I didn’t know, is I would experience my own bouts of homelessness before I was even 30. I thought because I wasn’t involved with drugs or crime, I’d be safe. But homelessness can affect you no matter where you come from and what you do.
When I first moved out of my parents home, I was living with my steady girlfriend of 4 years, Erica. We kept our apartment with both our salaries while she was working towards a college degree online. When I initially left high school, I had intentions of going to college when I was financially ready for it, but the longer I put off, the less I wanted to. At the age of 22, she became pregnant with my child. At 23, I was not prepared and we were both shocked. She decided she couldn’t give it up, but I vocalized my worries and fear for the road ahead. It strained our relationship, and as our child grew, we grew distant. When Eri was in her second trimester, she left her job as a dive instructor. I couldn’t keep up the rent myself, and tension between us was at an all time high. I’d struggled with depression during my teenage years but had coped fairly well once I left high school. It made a reappearance, causing me to be closer and closer to the chopping block at work with it’s fatigue and the distant cloud of sadness which always loomed over my shoulder.
When the rent was due that fateful January, we didn’t have it. Her family encouraged her back home to California, but I wasn’t welcome there. Nearly 5 years into our relationship, she decided she wanted to raise her baby girl without me in the picture.
I was extremely upset, I’d never felt so wronged. We weren’t married, and now that our apartment was gone, there was nothing holding us together. She left me alone and with nowhere to go. My own family who had moved back to Maui were struggling and I couldn’t think of burdening them.
I became suicidal at this point, so when the landlord came to evict me, I picked up my bags and left with nowhere in mind. I walked a bit, until I came to a park, sat down on a bench and let the hopelessness overwhelm me. I stayed there for the next two days, until a police officer kicked me out while the park was supposed to be closed.
The next few months are a blurred by hunger and dehydration. There came a breaking point, as I dug through the trash outside of Hard Rock cafe. One of the employees came out to throw away some more trash, and when she recognized me from high school, she stopped to speak with me. The exact conversation is lost in my memory, but I remember the meaning of her words. I explained to her my situation, how I felt there was no point in my own existence anymore without Eri, and that with her protection of my child, I wanted to fade away and disappear. She told me that I had to find my own reasons to stay, and no one could do that but me. That I couldn’t leave my child in this world without a father, and if I could get back on my feet and move to California, I could be with her. She informed me of a work force which allowed unskilled laborers to apply for temporary jobs, and how it was meant for people like me to help work their way off the streets.
She resumed her shift and I was left to contemplate. I decided that with the goal of meeting my daughter and being in her life, I would try.
I spent the next 8 months working whatever they gave me until I was officially hired by a moving company. I had leased an affordable studio and saved every penny I could. When I finally had enough for the plane ticket and two months rent at new place in California, I left Hawaii for the first time in my 25 years. When I landed in LAX, I realized I was in over my head. I applied everywhere I, but couldn’t land a job for more than minimum wage. My daughter Elizabeth would be two years old by summer, and I couldnʻt wait to meet her, but I also feared Eri would want me to start paying child support.
Eriʻs family held a lot of negative feelings for me because of my absence, but sheʻd fed them lies up until this point, about how I was abusive and dangerous. This had never been true, and she had a worse temper than I did. Iʻd never put my hands on her, but she had slapped me around a few times when she was really angry. They wouldnʻt let me anywhere near my child!
All the work and suffering between Eri leaving and me arriving was to get a door slammed in my face and threats of calling the police. She told me if I wanted to be in Izzyʻs life, Iʻd have to get my sh*t together and help her with the costs of treatment for a birth defect sheʻd never even told me about. My daughter was born with a cleft palate and had already undergone one correctional surgery, but would need another soon so she could start learning to talk.
I realized I had only two options; keep working a dead beat job here in this unfamiliar place and see if theyʻd accept me once I could start helping out (which wasnʻt likely) or take what I still had an head home to Hawaii and see if I could start over again there. At least I had friends there, albeit most of them thought I was dead due to dropping out of all social media for the last year and a half. I decided Iʻd keep trying to meet my daughter until they let me. I could work as many jobs as I needed to in order to keep my studio, and Iʻd eventually get a break.
This was not the case. After struggling a few months, I went back to living on the streets, while maintaining my job at a fast food restaurant. As long as I could keep myself clean (enough) and fed, Iʻd be able to make it. Hopelessness crashed in waves against me, and there were many rough weeks where I just wanted to give up and let myself die, but I couldnʻt. I couldnʻt let myself get so close just to give up now.
I caught a break when I was hired to another moving company, and as the hours and wages improved, I got another apartment. Within two weeks of finding my new home, Eri brought Izzy over. When I finally saw her, I cried with joy. She was what Iʻd been missing. She was worth every last bit of the torture Iʻd endured until now. I knew that any bump on the road ahead would be manageable, because I had my purpose now.
The years I spent there were still difficult. Work was tiring, Eri was nearly impossible to deal with, but I never let my head down again. Now, at 34, I am graced with weekends with my daughter. I went to technical school and have a stable, decently paying job. The time I spent on the streets is behind me, but I never looked at a homeless person the same since. You never truly appreciate something until itʻs gone, but it teaches you to appreciate the things you still have. In my case, it was the thought of a better life and being a father were enough. Everyone has their own reasons, you just have to find them.
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